The Adventures of Noah
by Craneeum
Summary: It's bad enough to be the first loser from the Gophers. Faced with boredom in the Loser House, Noah makes some observations about the world. Heck, he might even learn something. they'll be slash eventually... Fic has been abandonned, but if you like No/Co, check my newer, reworked story with a similar concept: 'A Concert for Twenty Fingers'
1. Failure

**Warnings: There's language. And Slash. And rudespeakin'. But nothing too serious. I don't even need to tell you what pairing it is.**

**So yeah. This is the first time I ever uploaded anything to this site. It's another one of those What Happened at the Playa des Losers? story, but this time, in FIRST PERSON! Yes, oddly enough, you never see that. I used it though 'cause half the story is just Noah bitching, which is highly appropriate. The first couple chapters should be up quickly, but then...God knows if the rest will EVER appear. And as a second warning: contains slash.**

* * *

"Lindsay"

...what?

...Crap.

"You guys just voted off the only guy with any_ brains_ on this team!"

Leshawna piped up with her usual attitude.

"Yeah, well you need to learn a little thing called _respect!_" consequently, everyone threw their precious marshmallows at me.

"What-ever."

Whatever. Not my fault I'm awful at sports. I mean, I _could've_ played dodgeball. Then they would have pleaded with me to stop. To be honest, it's not that bad going home. This whole "reality show" thing is really not my scene. I just wanted to be known as the schemer.

I go into the gopher cabin to collect my personal items and head to the dock of shame.

Instead of being the schemer, I'll just be known as that annoying, lazy kid that made it in twentieth place.

Go me.

Dock of Shame, here I come. I wonder how all the guys back home will react to seeing me now. Well, not like I made any "significant character development". They probably won't even realize I was on the show. Or care.

I get onto the boat, that whisks me away, off of the island I never knew existed, through a body of water I never knew existed. I wonder if I'll come off the boat to find myself on a sound stage. A really big sound stage.

About forty minutes later I'm standing on another dock. I look around. Maybe my parents or siblings are here to pick me up. They're probably too busy getting Michael ready for college and such. Once he's gone, it's just one more brother, and then me. I'm hoping my family at least took the time to watch my show...on second thought...no. That show was downright ungodly. It would be _embarrassing _to have my parents see that.

A woman short blond hair wearing a "secretary suit" steps onto the dock. She's holding a clipboard. She walks up to me.

"Noah Costa."

"Yeah?"

"Okay, you've been eliminated, therefore.."

Does this mean I go home?

"Therefore you spend the remaining time in the competition, until a winner is crowned, in this house, with every other contestant who's been eliminated.

Evidently not. I'm staying here for like two months.

The house isn't really a bad place. It's huge, white, and all rich looking. Certainly roomy enough for the 20 people who'll be eliminated before the finale. There's a pool. And waterfront view. Cool. As long as there's a nintendo, a library...and a sofa...I'm good. I go up to the door, suitcase in hand, and open it. There's no one in the living room at all. I think back to those eliminated before me. Neither was on my team. Eva. Ezekiel. Eva's probably lifting weights. Or drinking vodka, 'cause she's like Russian or something. God only knows what Ezekiel does for fun. It's gonna be a long three days until someone else gets here.

The small bright side to getting to this ghost town is I get an early pick of rooms. Only two have been taken, and personally, I wouldn't have wanted the butch or the hermit suite anyway. I choose a room at the end of the top floor hallway. Two beds. Like all the rest. I swear, I am letting no one in this other bed, ever. The room is a quiet blue with brown covers on the beds, wooden headboards. It's nothing particularly fancy but it will certainly do. I think I'll just go to bed. I'm downright exhausted from a day of playing dodgeball.

Yeah, right.

* * *

**That was ok. Some random notes:**

**-I chose Costa as Noah's name. It's portuguese (:**

**-And they get roomates unlike in other stories about the loser house I read. I mean, the Loser House is big...but big enough for Twenty people to each have elaborate rooms? I doubt it. Why would they stay in their rooms if there was so much luxury outside at the pool, anyway?**


	2. Bricks

**I really like Ezekiel (:**

**Um, so no comments now. So far the story's pretty boring, but you have to start somewhere.**

* * *

I wake to the sound of nothing. Excellent. No demands, no silly challenges. Just nothing. I go down stairs to get myself some breakfast. I notice Eva sitting at the table.I came here for cheerios, not conversation. I ignore her. We eat in silence. I mean, what could the two of us possibly have in common? I'm brains, she's brawn.

Eva Brawn.

I chuckle at my own stupid pun. Eva being Hitler's girlfriend, nice. Glad I'm a good catholic, I don't want to mess with her. Nor do I want these cheerios to get soggy.

I spend the first two days in the house droning around, desperately bored, watching TV and such. I should get something to read. Where can I find some good literature around here? I see a thick green book in the easy chair. Ezekiel may be socially retarded, but he's the only one that can compare to me intellectually. I pick it up.

"Рзни Макљнтош"

Great. It's in _Russian. _I may be smart but I don't do Russian. I settle with reading a Cosmo magazine. How did a Cosmo get into this house? Though, I'm sure, "How to snag a perfect boyfriend" may indeed be good advice for Ezekiel. I'm assuming he's more into girls, though. Damn, reading this stuff won't make him respect women any more than he does. Did they suggest I have sex in the hot tub? No, No. I will _not _have sex in the hot tub. Do these stupid writers _want _their readers to have STDs? I sigh.

Just then I notice Ezekiel walking in. He's wearing a new chain or something around his neck. I read the letters out loud.

"Ehzklleh?" I say, though it sounds more like a series of gagging noises.

"No, no, shut up. It says E-Z-K-L. Like my name."

That was really blunt and rude, but what do you expect from him. Not like he knows any better. He's what we would call a 'loser'. I glance back at the magazine rack. One of the magazines reeks of Leshawnaness. But she certainly isn't here. I come to the painful conclusion that Ezekiel will soon be making some rather drastic changes in the near future.

We have Super Smash Brothers Melee here. Sweet. I've already done classic mode with almost every playable character. I mean, who wants to play multiplayer when your only housemates are either too destructive to play video game or just don't know what video games are? Before I know it it's 9:30. We will soon discover the latest loser! I'll probably hate them but at least it adds variety. Who could it be? The insane one? The delinquent one? The stupid one? The door opens and the eliminated contestant walks in.

The....hot one?

Great. The guy who doesn't even _talk_ for crying out loud. Justin. I don't even care that he's a smokin' piece of mancandy. It's downright _uninteresting_. He walks upstairs. You can't help but, you know, check him out as he walks by. But whatever. Why couldn't it be someone interesting? Intelligent? Like _me? _Like Courtney. No, she was a bitch. What about Izzy? She may have been insane but she had, rumor has it, an IQ of 183. Then again, she's _insane _and that outweighs the good. Who else? There's Cody. Yeah, uh, I can't look him in the eye anymore so forget it.

Oh well, another three days of solitary boredom. They pass swimmingly. I mean this in the worst way possible. I even started reading Ezekiel's Spanish books, even though I only know a grade primary learning level of Portuguese (Nanny taught me. Shut up. Don't pretend you're not a grandma's boy too) Finally, the third night arrives and lo and behold, Katie walks into the Playa des Losers. Well that'll shake things up. Not. I've always been renowned for being lazy, but right now I would love to just do something.

_Anything. _

_

* * *

_**The Russian text here is my name spelled phonetically. I'd like to be able to make my chapters longer...'cause this took me like 2 minutes to proofread.**_  
_


	3. Cantonese

**Longer chapter, yay!**

* * *

Only one episode of Total Drama Island airs per week. I'm here, in the den, with four people that seem to lack any form of functioning vocal cords, watching my former co-stars go camping on TV. In a sick way I feel left out. Would I really want to be there when Cody wets himself...? Actually, I feel really bad for the guy. He seems to really love the goth girl, Gwen. I've always had a love/hate relationship with the goth subculture. They like corsets and fancy literature and being haughty at times, just like me, but they can also be cruel and self-hating. Though I am sometimes cruel, I've never doubted myself. I don't even need to try to do well. Mostly, I'm set apart from the goths due to my tanned skin and sweatervests...something that any 'goth' wouldn't be caught dead in. I wouldn't give up my sweatervests for all the heavy metal and Cody-worship in the world.

Who would actually want Cody worship? It borders on creepy, sweet and creepy. She likes Trent and not him, it's obvious. Not that I blame her, Trent is pretty cute. For her, I mean, to a goth chick. Then again, the goths never go for handsome, green-eyed...? Yeah, the show. It's much less interesting when you know who will ultimately go home, which we do, seeing as this is last week's episode. I wonder what Katie did to get voted off. I stare at the plasma screen TV a little longer. A fight with Sadie? Really? Wow that's intense. Well, not really. Girls like them fight all the time. Fight and breakup. Kiss and make-up, you know what I mean.

After the show I get up off the sofa and wander to the waterfront door. I exit and walk down to the shore, an escape from the stony lonesome known as Playa des Losers. (The very title irritates me. Is that mock french? Mock Spanish??) I walk to the shore of Lake Wawanakwa, or at least I think that's what it's called. The water is glassy and still tonight. It's hottish-coldish. Though it was raining yesterday, as the campers still on the island can attest, the ground is dry. One thing that you can't get amongst all the luxuries of the Loser House is outside world contact. You can Snail-Mail back home if you get inspired, but no MSN, no Facebook, no Telephone. For social animals like that Brokeback Mountain guy on the other team or the one with the...large chest, this would cause problems.

To be honest it doesn't bother me much. I'm not hated at my school so much as I just don't have really close friends. I don't care for a lot of the people from my school. I lost out on class president in grade 9 to Alexandra Fergusson, just because she's hot and has 926 Facebook friends. Once she got into office she had no clue what she was doing. We seriously had an economic shutdown because she spent six hundred big ones on a dance, in April. It wasn't a prom, it wasn't a semiformal, it was the April dance of no-big-reason. I didn't attend, I ended up staying home with one of my brothers (his birthday fell on the same date) and played Mario Kart. That was party enough for me.

Maybe I'd get out more if a girl asked me out. In all sincerity, no girl has ever dared aproach me. Are they intimidated by my encyclopedic knowledge of everything? Am I too mean? Or is it that no girl wants to date someone shorter than her, and I'm only five foot six? Maybe they all just think I'm gay. They can think it if they want, because it's not like I actually am.

A couple drops of water fall from the sky and I rise to go inside. I, unlike the Screaming Gophers, do not plan to sleep in a tree.

I come back inside quite late. Many of the lights are off as I walk in. I can see a dull blue light from the television coming in from the den. I lean in the doorway. Ezekiel. Well he's the one that doesn't like sleep. I can hear some weird gibberish from the TV. The dark-haired reporter and the strange symbols on the screen made it apparent.

"Chinese?" I say.

"Chinese isn't actually a language, eh. This program is in Cantonese" he says matter-of-factly.

"I know that." I _think_ I knew that.

A pause.

"Do you even understand that?"

"No"

"Well then why are you watching it?"

His eyes stay glued to the screen.

"I'm tryin' to pick it up a bit"

Secretly, I'm kind of jealous. Ezekiel may be, dare I say it, smarter than I am.

"How many languages do you speak anyway?"

"8. Well, only six fluently." He says, as if six could actually count as 'only'. "English, French, Spanish, German, Dutch, and Russian. I've been learning Greek and Polish but Polish has a lot of consonant combinations and is pretty hard to spit out right."

Yeah. I'm definitely jealous.

The next elimination brings no great surprise. Tyler didn't have a lot of personality, or skill for that matter. Especially not skill. He was a major throwaway character. Strange as it may be, the six of us ended up playing pool today. Eva's been trying to control her anger, as her teammates suggested, but losing to Tyler still caused her to snap her poolstick in half. The clipboard lady got wind of this and was pissed. It was pretty funny though.

Clipboard lady seems to be the only official here. No camera crews or anything. Which is okay, I guess. She doesn't meddle with us. She's only there to buy groceries and make sure we don't break stuff. I kind of wish she did meddle with us sometimes, because I'm bored with this gang. Other than minor shenanigans, the last fortnight has been a real snore. I've resorted to bitching at people when they don't clean the washrooms out properly. Here's looking at you, body-hair-waxer AKA Justin.

One more elimination round arrives. I approach the main door. Everyone else is standing around casually. The door opens and I'm met with a mummy.

_What the fuck_?

* * *

**I find that, by making it longer, it contains a lot of rambling. But that's the way I write...when a person thinks they don't describe everything they see to themselves, they just start thinking about completely unrelated things. Also I guess adding things about his school life gives him more character.** **Guess who's gonna be introduced next chapter! YEAH!**


	4. Visiting Hours

So apparently Cody was attacked by a bear.

He was taken to a little medical ward in the back of the Loser House. Having a guy in the house with a fullbody cast, as if this gang wasn't unresponsive enough. There are partial 'cliques' here now. Katie is always with Justin because he's hot and she's a sixteen year old girl, Tyler and Eva are always playing sports, and Eva always wins. That leaves me with the choice of two lovely contestants: Ezekiel Smith, homeschool turned homeboy, or Cody MacNeil, that guy who's in the hospital. Oh boy.

I sit looking at my spaghetti.

"What are you doing?" Katie asks inquisitively.

"Saying grace in my head"

"Why?" She asks

"Because that's how the Costa household has operated for years and I'm used to it"

"Ohh. Why?"

I don't really answer.

After supper I felt compelled to go to the hospital ward. What kind of house has a hospital ward anyway? Other than the TV show, of course. (Which I admit to being a big fan of) I go to visit Mr. Bearattack. It's not like I have anything better to do. I look at the multitude of white bandages enveloping his skinny body. He looks pretty bad.

"Um, hi Cody"

He looks at me and grunts.

"How you feeling?"

I may as well just stay and chat, you know...I couldn't tell what he tried to say.

"Bit's okay, Ma fast healr" he says, muffled.

I cast a simple "oh".

Well it's like the others. I have nothing to say to him.

"I'm pretty friggin' bored here. I mean, we don't even talk to each other around the 'Loser House'. It's pretty lame."

"Srry to hrr tat"

"I don't really know why I'm talking to you. I guess it's something out of the ordinary."

I can't tell if he's giggling or going through cardiac arrest.

A poofy-haired woman with a big rack comes in.

"You should be off now, son, he needs his rest." Evidently, she was the nurse.

"Okay. See ya." I motion to him.

I felt tempted to add an "I promise when you wake up you won't find me kissing you," but that would be inappropriate on many levels.

As I prepared myself for bed, I found myself waiting for Justin to get out of the shower. He takes so long with his little beauty routines, he's worse than a woman. I don't know what everyone sees in him. Sure, he's attractive, but he'd probably be so high-maintenance, not to mention he'd probably have an affair with one of his crazy fans. He isn't really my idea of attractive. Not that I really know what my idea of attractive is...I should get out more often. He steps out of the washroom in a cloud of steam, water drops dripping off his perfectly tanned skin. I sigh. That's why everyone is so attracted to him. I slap my forehead, realizing how odd that sigh could seem to anyone unaware of my inner dialogue.

By now I've taken up a habit of visiting Cody every day. It used to break up the pace of the day, but now it's part of the routine. I enjoy it, though. He's a good listener. Not that he has any choice.

"...I mean, they always say the Latinos are the hot ones. But no one thinks I'm hot. I honestly think he's an over-cooked dane. Severely over-cooked." I stop rambling for a moment. Do you think he's bothered by me yet?

Just then, the latest loser enters. Beth. She has with her what appear to be flowers. Is she trying to impress him? Maybe Beth likes Cody. That would be weird. I let her do her thing anyway. She talks to him for a bit as if I'm not there. Her lispy, annoying voice fills the room. I notice she keeps adjusting her glasses. Well the hell if I'm going to let her step in on Cody like that! I've been here for weeks and he's been the first person whom I've felt it right to lecture, and the hell if I'm letting _her _get closer to him!

Way to sound all jealous girlfriend, Noah.

Before I end up scaring myself, I leave the room. I have a strange attachment to that mummified creep, it's nothing weird, it's just, strange. Strange, weird, whatever.

The completely icy treatment the losers gave each other in the past is begining to ease up. We play Wii sports now, for some odd reason. Sports, even when digital, are not my forté. It's entertaining to watch, though.

"You screwed me!" Ezekiel said when someone elbowed him as he took his bowling shot.

"You mean screwed you _up_."

"Is there a difference?"

Before I have to go through a birds-and-the-bees monologues, I duck out.I should totally go in the hot tub...and not do those things Cosmo suggested. I walk by the sick room on my way out and notice Mauling Victim standing there, now unwrapped. I decide to go in.

"Um, you really are a fast healer."

"Yeah, told you so! I've gotten cuts that healed over night."

I search for my words.

"So, uh, now that you're not dangling between life and death and you're out of your bandages, I was wondering, uh, would you....like to be my roomate?"

Where did all that come from? Am I trying to turn him into my BFF? The Katie to my Sadie?

"Sure! That sounds good. Some of the others here seem less than companion-like."

I couldn't agree more.

"Okay! So I'll be up in a second! Just gotta get my things."

I snap out of a weird trance I was going through.

"Sure...I'll show you the room."

Cody throws his stuff on the bed and sits on it.

"Sweet pad you got here, bro!"

"Please...don't try to sound all cool with me. It doesn't work."

"Okey Dokey!" He says sweetly.

"That's more like it."

He takes some papers out of his bag and a biffs the huge stack into a drawer, and throws his clothes haphazardly into the dresser.

"Meh, I'll deal with the anal-retentive stuff in the morning. I just gotta fill out the doctor report...y'know, just so they know I'm not bleeding internally!"

He's a bit quirky, isn't he? I watch him scribble on the sheets of paper.

"You a lefty?" I ask

"Yep"

"Cool..."

I don't know why, but I can't even interact with him. Maybe I shouldn't have burnt bridges on the show. Maybe I should've tried to actually build some in the first place. Oh well. At least they're one person I can sort of, almost, talk to.

It's a start.

* * *

**-I chose MacNeil as Cody's last name. It is MAJOR east-canada. I know at least 5 MacNeil families and I don't even have a huge network of friends. Whoever this Neil guy is, someone needs to tell him to lay off on having children.**

**-Damn Cody heals fast. 6 days??**

**-Those who don't get "other than the TV show, that is" he's saying the only house with a medical ward is House, MD, the TV show.  
**


	5. Marriage

**I have a love/hate for this chapter. I find it all happens to fast, but then, I don't know. **  


* * *

I'm an easy sleeper. I can sleep in a sitting position, for Christ's sakes. Cody doesn't seem to be the same way. He's tossing and turning, but he seems to be asleep. Who actually moves in their sleep? I turn to face the wall so I can't see him being all restless.

I'm not a very deep sleeper but I fall asleep easily. You kinda have to when there are eight other children in your house. Sarah, my oldest sister, was already a teenager when I was born. She'd stay up doing 'Teenager' stuff, while my mom would plead "not to wake the baby!" Mark and James were more into sports and spent their time pounding holes in the wall with hockey pucks. And it didn't wake the baby, thankfully. How did mom put up with it?

Now my three eldest siblings are all married. I became an uncle at the age of nine when Sarah had Avery. Avery isn't a very Portuguese-sounding name....he ended up with the last name Johansson and his father's completely Nordic complexion. I won't what it'd be like if I were to have kids. I would hope that they'd get my brains, except, that isn't really hereditary. I bet Lindsay's parents are anesthesiologists. It wouldn't surprise me one bit. I squint at nothing. Maybe I won't get married, you know? As I've already stated, in my nearly seventeen years, I haven't ever met a girl that pleases me enough to marry.

Now that I think of it, that's true. I've never really loved. All girls are similar to me, all they care about is hot guys that are actually total jerks, their hair, their clothes, and dances. And all the ones that aren't like that only care about bad music, bad poetry, and skulls. It's just as bad as everyone else.

I think Cody might be snoring.

Even if girls can be lame, guys still seem to like them. Strange how hormones can outperform common sence. Maybe it's the reason girls swoon over Justin. I reflect for a second. Why have I never swooned? Am I doomed?

There's something I've been ignoring.

Maybe it was always there and I've sub-consciously ignored it, you know? From what I hear, you're born this way. Maybe I mistook my love for unfiltered hatred. It can happen (just look at Courtney and Duncan). Or maybe I've never been in love so I don't know what it means. In all the books involving lobe I've ever read, they say their Romeo or their Juliet makes them feel weak and makes their heart go faster. I, myself, am not a fan of things that make my heart go fast, as my fellow gophers can attest.

A bit of moon shines in from the other side of the room. Cody isn't restless now like he was. Now he's calm. This is the part when I start to hate myself. My chest feels a bit tight, like all the Juliets say it should, except it feels a little wrong all the same. It's been the reaction I've had to seeing him as long as I've known him, but now, it feels different. I have, I really have, been ignoring something, haven't I? I feel like such an idiot, having to take seventeen years to understand.

Same as how I caught myself admiring Trent that time. And how I was completely ignorant of how hot Cody's nurse apparently is. And now, here, at one in the morning, in a house full of people I have no chemistry with, I'm realizing how much I'm lusting after my roomate.

I'll never get married like Sarah, Adam, and James. I won't live my life the right way. I knew it but never payed attention to it. Now, I will.

I think I may be sorry for my mother. I'm not what she expected of me. Maybe I don't want to inherit the earth. Is it worth it? I don't know how to find happiness, but it might not be through a woman and a wife. God can't hate me for what I can't control. I've ignored it because It's been instilled upon me to do such a thing. I'm not going to ignore it, starting right now.

You know what this means, Costa family.

Your little Noah is gay.

* * *

**I don't know about this. I find his realizations too sudden, even though it's more of a "I'm not in denial" thing. I read a little bit of the book "Absolutely, Positively, Not" about a guy who denies he's gay, except he always sort of knew it, but I never got to the part where he accepts it XD. Anyway, seeing as I'm straight I don't have any experience...so I tried to relate it to realizing you're in love with someone...which has it's own set of problems. So anyway I hope the chapter was good anyway.**


	6. Mundane

**This story is boring me...but I have to write it anyway.**  


* * *

When I wake, he's already gone. His bed is neatly made and the clothes he left on the floor the previous night had been put away, as promised. Pill bottles are neatly lined up on the bedside desk and...our laundry has been taken down? Cody must be and early riser. The clock next to my bed says 10:33. Or rather, he's an average-hour riser and I just sleep it. It makes sense I'd be in bed 'til late, after my insomnia last night caused me to encountered some ground-shattering breakthroughs.

It retrospect it was obvious to everyone. I totally had a crush on Sleeping Beauty's prince when I was little, and Michael made fun of me for it, though he seems to have since forgotten. It makes perfect sense. I just had, last night, what Oprah calls an ah-ha moment. Am I making references to Oprah? Oh God, I hope that's not what it's like to be gay, because if it is, I want out right now.

I get out of bed and gather my clothes. I wonder if I should tell anyone, it might help. I should wait until I'm completely sure to my core that I actually am. It came on fast, you know? As I step into the hallway, Justin walks by, shirtless, as usually. Okay, I'm mostly sure about it...

I get into the kitchen and see Cody at the table, with the newspaper, pen jolting wildly.

"Morning" I choke out.

"More like...eleven o'clock"

"I'm a late sleeper, what can I say?"

He scribbles something down.

"This is my third crossword. I've already done Wednesday's, Thursday's, and every cryptoquote since Monday. I never realized how fun this can be"

I stare in awe.

"Hey, what a four-letter word for 'utopia'?"

"I...don't know"

"Oh well, I should stick to Sudokū. Numbers are more my 'thing'"

No fair! I'm supposed to be the book-nerd, and he's the math geek! I shoot at him.

"What's a four-letter-word for 'nerd'?"

"Uh, let's see, dork, geek, uhh..." he muses.

"I was going to say 'Cody'. But those work"

"Noah could fit too"

"True."

I take a seat.

"I have an Idea"

"What?" he replies.

"I wanna see if you can finish that crossword in the time it takes me to do that Sudokū."

"You're on!"

I grab a pencil and get to work. Three minutes pass, then four, then five...God I suck at Sudokū!! You can't use the same number twice. Nine. I used nine. Damn. I got the left-centre block. Now if I put seven here...no I used that vertically! This is unbelievable! I couldn't possible...

"Done!"

He's finished.

"You nerd! Glad I didn't bet anything!"

"Yeah I'd totally make you my personal slave"

That statement went into a weird place in me. I'd never say that I misinterpreted that sexually, though. It's too wrong.

"How did you do that? 180 IQ up here." I say, slightly boastful.

"I'm not necessarily smarter than you dude, just fast." Like I haven't heard that before.

He isn't smarter than me, just more motivated. I hear he went to the Math Olympics. I couldn't sit through that. Numbers are so faceless. Plus, the Olympics just brings up visions of sports. Eww.

"Well I can totally do things and stuff!"

"Sure" he said with a smile. He got up and left the kitchen.

Things and stuff? What was I thinking? I caught myself staring at him as he walked out. There's something honestly the matter with me.

With the amount of people at Playa des Losers now totaling nine, things are a little livelier. We're starting to interact as humans should. I'm getting back some memories of when it was just me, Ezekiel, and Eva. Bad times, my friend, bad 're through with that now. I watch everyone play volleyball in the pool. I'm on the sidelines, of course, but for once it's fun to watch. Some people are pretty pathetic at sports, and I don't mean just me. Much longer and Tyler will be completely dead, my bets are down. And Ezekiel barely grasps the concept of volleyball. I'm starting to enjoy it here. Last I heard, those still in the competition were eating deadly blowfish and crazy shit like that. Life is decent. Though that 100 000 $ would still be nice.

Against my better judgment, I decide to hop in the pool, only to recline in a blow-up chair. Not like I'm gonna do laps or anything. I lay back in the sun. I sigh. I might even get a tan, though my skin is already tanned from birth. The thought of sunburn reminds me of something. When I first came to Total Drama Island, I had at one point referred to Owen and Cody as Spongebob and Patrick, due to Owen being a fat, sunburnedfellow, and Cody being a cute, optimistic nerd with a gap in his front teeth. Did I just call him cute? I chuckle at the idea of Owen living under a rock. I guess that would make me the resident big-nosed curmudgeon, Squidward. Seems appropriate enough.

Suddenly, I'm soaked. I let out a rather effeminate screech and open my eyes. Cody just cannonball'd into the pool.

"How can a guy who weighs like ninety pounds make such a tidal wave! I mean come on!"

"Hey! I'm more like 115."

I can't help but laugh. That guy is skinny. I look at him standing in the cool water and I can see his ribs through his bare chest. This'll sound weird, but I find it kinda hot. I watch him swim and in my mind's eye I see a big, black-and-neon sign above my head that reads "creeper". Go away, Neon sign. You know what this means.

Noah is in love.

* * *

**My chapters are always short. So as filler, here's a cheat sheet of the names I decided on for Noah's family. They're classic, Bible-names, which seems to suit my idea of his family:**

**Sarah Costa, age 29**

**Adam Costa, 27**

**James Costa, 25**

**Mark Costa, 23**

**Madeleine Costa, 22**

**Isaiah Costa, 21**

**Michael Costa, 19**

**Gabriel Costa, 17**

**Noah Costa, 16**


	7. Awkward

**I haven't updated in a long time. Not because I was busy. Lord knows I wasn't. But I just never felt like it. Anyway. Here's another one-shotty type chapter of random stuff.**

* * *

Courtney Venszel can get angry. Very angry. And when she entered the Playa des Losers, we found out just how angry she could get. I have to hand it to her, she isn't one to give in. She says it must've been rigged. Someone must have cheated, otherwise she never would have been kicked off. I'll believe that when I see it. I don't think it was smart of her to hang out with Duncan so much. He was a bad influence, indeed. Pretty soon she'll be burning things and being a general deviant.

They grow up so fast!

I hear chuckling coming from the TV room. Eva. What could she possibly find funny? Misery? My guess proves correct, as I glance at the TV screen. A girl is on the ground, dead, I'm not sure, but certainly close, with her abdomen opened and visible organs. It's surprisingly realistic, the portrayal of her insides. I grimace. It sure is gross though. How can anyone watch this stuff? Reminding myself that it's fake, I push away any queasiness, and leave the room.

"...The most exciting episode yet of Total Drama Island!"

The theme song started playing showing the twenty-two of us in turn. It's entertaining to watch a show involving people you've personally met. It's a strange experience. I'm actually watching a re-run right now, but watching things twice makes it funnier.

And of course, Cody comes in. Damn

"Whatcha watchin'?"

"What do you think?"

He jumps on the sofa next to me, a gummi worm dangling from his mouth.

"Didn't we–" he slurps up the worm "-Didn't we already see this one?"

I nod "But it's fun to watch again, isn't it?"

"Yeah! It is."

So he stays with me. Of course, he insists on sitting on the couch next to me rather than the chair, or the lazyboy, or the floor. Damn.

They call a two-cushioned sofa a love seat. Again, damn. There's a slight amount of body contact between us. Damn Damn Damn.

It's the infamous Rock Climbing incident. The campers get put in pairs and head to climb a treacherous cliff.

Cody is sitting in a semi-fetal position, legs on the seat, kinda like that guy from that animé show that's on Fridays (I believe he watches it, too, that and Bleach...) The position makes it so he's kind of leaning on me. Every bit of skin that's touching him is kinda burning.

Through the evils of Heather, Gwen ends up losing her pants. I speak.

"Bet you wish you were there for that"

"Mmmhmmm..." he says, staring at the girl on the screen. I feel an odd tinge of jealously. I force it down and concentrate on the show.

"Gummi worm?" He says suddenly.

"Huh?" He passes me a slimy candy. That guy really likes his sugar.

"You're really putting away those worms..."

"It's all good...here! Take one!"

And thus silence is resumed between the two of us.

I don't know why, but the two of us continued our TV marathon for like, ever. Why have I never watched Futurama before? It's an awesome show! The discomfort level of sitting in close quarters with Cody have diminished and I actually feel lazy. Calm. Not at all on edge. Though Cody enjoys cartoons, I'm enjoying myself. At least it's not the gory movie of yesterday. I cringe slightly. Every once in awhile, someone laughs, but there isn't a lot of communication. (It's all good)

"Noah" he says.

I'm slightly startled by his voice.

"I have a questions"

"...shoot"

"You know the awake-a-thon, right?"

Oh boy. I know where this is going.

"Why.." here it comes. "Why did you _kiss_ me?"

I stop myself from screaming that I didn't want to talk about it. I chose the path of vagueness.

"I don't know"

"Were you dreaming or something?"

"No"

I probably should have said yes. It would be easier to get off.

"Alrighty. Because," he chuckled lightly. "It was kinda awkward."

"You don't even know"

I had kind of forgotten about the incident for awhile. I had kissed him in my semiconscious state. Maybe it was Freudian slip?:

"Noah...?"

Oh, what now?

"Yes?"

"Are you _gay_?"

He says it almost jokingly. Fuck.

"No I'm not"

"Okay"

"Why do you ask"

I should have shut up, but my curiosity overcame me.

"I dunno." he paused. "But if you were, that'd be cool"

No it wouldn't. _Trust_ me, it wouldn't.

"Well...I'm not."

"I know, just saying."

"Okay then"

And thus ended a very awkward moment in my life.

* * *

**This started to sound too much like the Avenue Q song "If you were Gay" towards the end... Also I bet Cody loves Futurama.**

**I chose Venszel as Courtney's name. I can not decide on an ethnicity for her...darkish skin? Freckles? WTF? So I went with a Hungarian name. And random info: here are some other last names:**

**Harold Stevenson [he's a Newfie...that's a Newf name]**

**Trent D'Ascenzo [I took this from someone else's fanon. But I like the sound of it. Italian]**

**Gwen Blanchette [Means little white...in French.]**

**Heather Yeung [Simple Asian sounding name]**

**Bridgette Eklund [Scandinavian. She can't be anything other than Scandinavian]**


	8. The Short, Slightly Angsty Chapter

**This chapter is very very short. Somewhat intentional. **  


* * *

Six.

He's on to me.

Seven.

Cody is on to me.

Eight.

He knows. He knows. He's going to find out. What am I doing?

Nine.

I'm seeing how much chest hair I have. Not very much, eff-why-eye, but that is hardly important. What is important is that I feel kind of taken aback and confused. Nothing feels right. It's stage. It's too fast. I only liked him a week. Or a month. It depends on how you qualify 'like'. And suddenly, not only am I a closet case, but I'm paranoid he knows this.

Maybe he believed me when I said I wasn't?

I shouldn't worry. I don't worry. It isn't in my nature to worry. So then. I won't.

I run a hand along my chest. I guess I do have some chest hair...I wonder if he'd find that a major turn-off....? Then a thought crosses my head. Cody's straight. Straight. He wouldn't much appreciate chest hair on his love interests. They're girls.

And suddenly I understand why I feel wrong. He is straight. Heterosexual and completely incapable of loving me. And to top it off he likes Gwen. If he knew what I was thinking of he just might spazz. I get the sudden fear that my thoughts are being broadcast across the room.

As if he did know, he sits up for a second, groggy.

"Noah" I stay silent. Each word is oddly crisp for someone who was asleep seconds ago.

"You are...gay...aren't you?"

Seeing as I am sick of this game I've shut off my 'outside voice' filter. After a silence I say.

"Yes"

There. Now someone knows.

"Okay...that's cool..." and with that he lies down again. Someone knows. The one guy who absolutely shouldn't.

Let's face it.

Noah Costa is completely hopeless.

* * *

**I suddenly don't like where the story is going. And also, chapter nine is the chapter I skipped over since I was completely blocked, therefore I have 10-14 written but not 9. So God knows how this will turn out. Though I could always greatly improve the story with the next chapter. You never know. But I'm back in school now...so...**


	9. Regret

It's the feeling you get when you type something up, like a text message on a phone or something, and you send it. And then your thumbs wobble in circles around your phone, and you re-read the message after you've sent it. And you check your phone again and again to see if the other person responded, even though if they had the phone would have rung. But you keep checking, over and over just in case they're so godamned appalled by what you said that they send a text in ninja mode.

I wonder how many people injured their hands and arms back in the days of snail-mail because they suddenly had second thoughts on what they threw into the mailbox.

The thing is though, when you write, you can press that little backspace button and change something definitively bad to something ambiguous. The fact that your ordinary pencil eraser, and your ordinary condom are both made of rubber is, to me, no coincidence. They're both a handy little tool to prevent gigantic problems down the road. But sometimes, when you make a discovery or hear some rumour, you can't help but tell someone. Even if that rumour happens to be about you – you still tell. It feels nice to tell people things, doesn't it? I'm always honest. I'm frank – in fact if my name weren't so elegantly suiting to me, it may as well have _been_ Frank. Sometimes though, you gotta use a filter. And those who don't use a filter sometimes encounter negative...feelings.

That, my friends, is regret.

Now being an honest man I regret some things. I regret being such a smart alleck to Mr. Arseneau. I know I would have done better than 83 in his class if I didn't always correct him on his inadequacies, however apparent they were. I regret hiding all of Mark's hockey pucks when he wouldn't stop denting the garage door, but holy hell, I couldn't stand my mother chastising him any more. I regret lying – well, 'fibbing' – to all you good folks out there about my sexuality. Denial, Denial, Denial...

And regret.

That brings me to my problème du jour: telling Cody I'm gay. I don't know why I couldn't just lie, or hey, maybe_ pretend to be asleep_, it was like two AM, after all. But I had to clear my conscience. Instead of writing a friendly letter to my dearest brother, uh...Michael, I guess, and making him vow not to tell mom, I tell, as I've said, the one guy who shouldn't know. You know why he shouldn't know? As of now, any random body contact or things that may be construed as flirting are now officially banned.

But that's not even close to the worst. The worst is...

Uh, the worst _is_...

The worst is that now I can't be passive. Now I'm not able to pretend I'm not attracted to the scrawny wannabe and I definitely can't go take my refuge oncemore in a glass closet. The worst is that I need to decide whether to make a move, and risk literally regurgitating my heart, and then having my heart vomitted on by Cody; or not make a move, and most likely get a nervous erection every time I see someone with a gap in their teeth. Have you ever seen someone with a gap in their teeth? Cody is that tiny one-or-two percent of gap-toothed people who are not filthy, redneck, or otherwise gross.

Agh, God above. I do not want to see myself in twenty years, alone, tearily fucking an overweight, gap toothed woman named Cassie, and then slipping up and calling her by a man's name, all because my first gay experience – my first sexual experience at all – was inconclusive, or tragic, or just slipped away without becoming anything.

Is Cody my big special soulmate? Probably not. Maybe not. Christ knows. That isn't the issue. Phillandering and wooing isn't exactly the easiest thing for any five-foot-six, overly intelligent, nerdboy. Add in the fact I'll be trying to land a _guy_, well, we're looking at near impossible here. I need to learn sometime – how to shine, to put it in a more cheesy way. I failed miserably at being liked on the Island, so maybe I could be liked here. A fifteen year old kid who's friends are probably all in robotics club, if not actually robots, could be a start. Desperation leads to advantage. Am I a rapist? Meh, who knows.

What I know is that advantages for me, the secret to my future in the mysterious realm of human sexuality and interaction, is lying across from me. If I take feelings for granted, just for a while, maybe I could ascend, dare I say, the respectibility ladder. No, I'm not going to run over there, wake him, and ask him out. I'll just work on it. Friends first. And if I fail, I learn from mistakes. If I succeed, I'll probably be touched (yes, physically, but now that I think of it, emotionally too) in a way I've never been in nearly seventeen years.

And if Cody winds up scared out of his mind by me, I'll still try my best to not regret a thing.

* * *

**Yeah I decided to amp up this baby again. Because slash is fun, right? This is just a solliloquy chapter, but that means now I'm gonna be able to work on it. And seeing as I'm kinda not in grade eight anymore, it will be EVEN BETTAH! **


	10. Bravery

Maybe I neglected to mention one of the many recent additions to the house, though, I can't say how I could possibly forget.

Yes, as of August 1st, 2008, the Loser House has been the receptacle of harmonious music. Whiny, acoustic, hipster, 'original' music. Trent Dascenzo music. Yes, I said harmonious. I never said good. His voice, to me, feels like scraping pieces of charcoal together. And even I know that doesn't make a lick of sense.

I can't diss the boy though, at least he does something he enjoys. And at least his absurdly long torso, green eyes, and ebony hair attracted the attentions of Gwen, keeping her much to occupied to deal with Cody...though honestly, I don't know why I'm going down this trail. Gwen is kinda a bitch, and I doubt she would've had a second glance at Cody even if there were no Trent. She'd probably go for Duncan, if not, I dunno, DJ. Or hell, she'd probably like me before Cody. She'd sooner do Bridgette for Christ's sake.

I stop myself there, because I'm basically insulting my own taste in partners at this point.

So as I was saying, Trent is in the house. Everyone's under his spell, and that includes Cody. Which is honestly, a good thing, because constantly being tormented with that feeling of 'oh, look, he's alone, talk to him' gets annoying sometimes.

I enter the kitchen to get a morsel to eat, and am, as usual, faced with the strum of a guitar. Trent sings one of the most cliché 'hey, I can play the guitar songs ever': Brown-Eyed Girl. I stare, unimpressed. My eyes divert to Cody, who seems a little confused, which in turn, confuses me. Trent plucks the last note. One of the spectators, Beth, grins.

"Singing for Gwen, are you?"

Trent shrugs shyly

"Yeah."

When the sparse _aww's_ die down, Cody speaks:

"Gwen's eyes are hazel"

I almost want to congratulate the boy on his mood-killing skills.

For hours more during the day, he follows Trent around, quizzing him on music, acting as though he knows what he's talking about. If he actually did know what he was talking about, he'd know you can't freaking hit a soprano C on a guitar. But nevertheless he grabs the guitar, and strums the strings, and creates a semblance of a two-note aria.

'How beautiful' I say to myself, rolling my eyes.

I occupy my time as far away from the budding musicians as I can, reading, as usual. Brave New World. I had read it for the first time when I was only about ten, and the ideas of conformity and rampant bed-jumping sex lives and pre-birth indoctrination...enough to give me nightmares. Yeah, I guess I could say I was a smart kid. Most fifth-graders are just beyond that fear of monsters under the bed phase, but still nowhere near the fear of in-vitro genetic manipulation phase.

Okay, so honestly most kids never hit such a phase.

I sit and read and yes, I'm not exactly making any Cody progress, or human progress for that matter, but hey, I'm enjoying myself. I think Cody maybe be attempting to play a song in the other room, but it's easy enough to ignore as he is not yet singing.

_"Round they went in a circular procession of dancers, each with hands held..."_

"ANOTHER TURNING POINT, A FORK STUCK IN THE ROAD"

_"...on the hips of the dancer proceeding, round and round, shouting in..."_

"IT'S NOT A QUESTION, BUT A LESSON LEARNED IN TIIIME"

_"...unison, stamping to the rhythm of the music with their..."_

"I HOPE YOU HAD THE TIME OF YOUR LIIFE"

"Oh for the love of Jesus!"

I pop my head around the corner, to see the boy rocking out to a poorly-covered 90's pop-punk song.

"Gee that sure is some tune you're playing, Cody" I say, voice oozing as much sarcasm as I can possibly force it to ooze. "I wonder why Trent hasn't asked you to be in his band yet. Hey, maybe I could come in too, I play a mean Clarinet"

Cody stops playing with a plunk. "Really?"

"Listen honey, exactly one statement in that little phrase was true, can you get which one?"

"Is your clarinet really...mean?"

"If mean means good, then yes."

I wasn't lying, I really am a good clarinet player. In school band, actually. I thought wearing a sweater-vest would make it obvious to everyone I was in band. Then again...look how Cody dresses...

"That's awesome. I only wish I were a band geek! I tried out but I really blew at playing Tuba"

"I don't know whether to hope that pun was unintentional or on purpose"

He smiled wide at that, and I think I may have melted just a little. He's a cutie, isn't he? I move a little closer to him, casually running my fingers along the glossy body of the guitar. I am just about to open my mouth to begin a conversation when he beats me to it:

"I better get this back to Trent. I mean, he was supposed to come back here, but knowing KatieandSadie he's probably tied up out there, or something"

My heart drops ever-so-slightly at his decision to cut it short, but I pick myself up. Not before, of course, briefly wondering if my revelation from last night made him wary of me. I knew that couldn't be, though. Not Cody, not him.

As the sun went down, the sunniness in a certain someone's personality went down, too. He began to retreat from Trent. By seven o'clock, there was no more godawful music to be heard at Playa des Losers. No matter how annoying the music had been, its absence was slightly worrying.

A kid sits alone on the patio, face showing no particular emotion. He looks out at the lake somewhat wistfully. The voice in my head that said 'look, he's alone, you should talk to him,' was for once less frantic and more gentle, nudging me onto the wooden veranda. I sit beside Cody on the plush swing-chair. I attempt conversation.

"Hi, what's going on?"

His voice sounded sullen, not painfully so, but noticeable less gleeful than his usual demeanor.

"Hi"

I frown.

"Something the matter?"

"Not really"

"Not really doesn't mean the same as no"

"Well, kinda bummed"

"How come"

He sighs. "Have you ever liked someone..._adored_ someone, who just didn't seem to like you at all?"

I felt words formulate, but I realized my situation was not as bleak as his by far.

"Probably not" he says "but it sucks."

"Gwen?"

"Gwen. I was talking to Trent. Naturally, she came up in conversation. Jeez, Noah, he's in love with her. Completely. They might be kids but honestly, if they weren't, he'd up and marry her right now. He's crazy about her. And she's the same"

I let escape a little "Woah"

"Yeah. Exactly. I'm nothing like Trent. He's emotional, I'm obliviously cheerful. He's totally...musiciany, and I, well, you heard me. He's really hot, and I...well," He stretches his arms out, looking down at his body, as if to say 'well, just look at me'. His long, gangly arms were oddly appealing to me. I'd never say that, even to reassure him. His awkward smile and skinny frame...yes, I liked it. But I wouldn't say that.

"I don't have to wonder what she sees in him" he says "They make a perfect match."

A perfect match at being gothic jerks if you ask me, but that opinion stays within.

"I wonder who'd make a good match for me." he bites down on his thumbnail. "I don't see people just like me walking around every day"

I try to be helpful:

"You'd need someone smart, for sure. Maybe verging on geeky. Actually, full-on geeky. Seriously, just give up on dating someone cool, but don't fret, I mean, the cool scene will never amount to anything once college rolls around"

He gives a slight chuckle. "You sure you're not describing yourself there, Noah?"

"Uh, huh, no"

"I do appreciate your wit though. I'd like that in a lady."

"A true original, creative, witty, sarcastic at times, intelligent. So basically, a Gwen"

"Yeah...a Gwen."

He looks down.

"God, Cody, you're such an Eponine."

"Is...that a type of Horse?"

"No, it's from Victor Hugo's novel, Les Miserables. A crazy tale about french people killing each other and selling their teeth to feed themselves and stealing shit."

"So you're saying I've gotta speak french and steal stuff from people to get Gwen to like me? Gosh, Noah, she might be from Quebec but she's not that much of a sleeze!"

"Hey, watch it! I'm from Quebec too!"

He laughs. Happy Cody has partially returned.

"Do you wanna know why you're an Eponine?"

"Please do tell."

"Eponine is in love with Marius, this like, sexy revolution guy. But he likes Cosette, the pretty ingenue who's mom was a chlamydia-ridden whore who had to give her up to innkeepers so that she wouldn't starve. Eponine wants to impress Marius so badly, but he only has eyes for Cosette, but because Eponine really wants Marius to like her, she does favours for him like delivering the letters he writes to his dear Cosette. That doesn't work either, so 'Ponine goes right nuts and then during this big battle scene she takes a bullet for Marius, and dies. Though it's debated whether this was selfless act of 'dying so he can live' or a selfish act of 'watch me do something brave, Marius!'"

Cody makes a face.

"That's what I'm like?"

I chuckle.

"The more I think of it, the less it makes sense. I just want to sound smart"

"You _always_ sound smart."

"Okay, so forget it, you're not an Eponine. You're just you. But you know what? After all this TV exposure, those Nova Scotia maidens will be all over you back home."

"Heh, well, I think this one girl already likes me."

"Who?" I gulp a bit.

"Beth"

Well that's not a shocker.

"Did she actually get the guts to tell you? That would be surprising. She's not exactly Mrs. Self-Confidence, unlike, say, you."

"I struck out with Gwen eighty-seven times, but I didn't give up. I tried real hard."

"But..."

"Nothin'"

"Maybe I did do an Eponine. I committed romantic suicide. I sent her Marius-letters to Trent-slash-Cassette or whatever she is. Yeah. That's love, right?"

I suddenly felt bad for the guy. I almost wish he could be with Gwen. It might leave me out cold but not everyone always ends up happy.

"If she has what she wants, then I'm okay. Maybe, I just hope maybe, if one day, she's all grown up, and her and Trent have a bunch of Twens, or Grants rather, that she tells those babies the story of Cody MacNeil" He punches a fist to his chest patriotically "...and how he brought mommy and daddy together."

Yep, this is pretty tragic.

"I hope she'll be happy"

"I hope the same to you" I say, almost not realizing I said it.

"There's someone out there...somewhere...who won't reject me eighty-seven times. Someone I will love, who loves me too"

Me, Cody!

_It could be me!_

* * *

**Yeah I like this chapter :) It's twice as long as all the others. And I don't care if Cody's name is canonically Cody Emmett Anderson or whatever, to me, he's still Cody Shane MacNeil. Good scot NS boii. That's what he is. **


End file.
